A joyous celebration to you all! I have attended several such celebrations today, and so I must write quickly to get them recorded before I am needed in the choir.
Grace and Con took Shep to get his pictures taken by a professional photographer yesterday afternoon. He was just slightly too small for the red-and-white suit they put him in, but that only made him more adorable. His parents rejoiced as the photographer and her assistant cooed over him, as he looked back at them with alert bewilderment. They were happy in themselves, as well, growing more comfortable every day with their new relationship. There will always be love between them, but now there is also friendship again, and I am so glad for them both.
Gabrielle and Nick were going to go down to join his family for the holiday, but Nick cancelled the trip, spending a long hour on the phone apologizing to his mother. I was as disappointed as Gabrielle—we both hoped that the time could soften the sharp stiffness that has lingered since their argument. But Nick did not want to give his family any reason to think that they were not doing well together.
Instead, Gabrielle went over to her aunt and uncle’s house for dinner tonight. She excused Nick with a smile and an imaginary cold, but her aunt saw through that easily. Kayla pulled Gabrielle aside after dinner, and it took only a bit of time before Gabrielle unloaded her troubles.
“Now he won’t even talk to me, not more than a few words at a time,” she wailed to Kayla. “I don’t know what to do.”
“And have you talked to him?” Kayla asked.
The silence was answer enough for that.
Kayla took Gabrielle’s hand. “Respect is just as important as love in a marriage, and sometimes it’s harder. One of the ways you show your spouse respect is by talking to them. Don’t just assume that you know what he’s thinking—ask him.”
I pressed onto Gabrielle the truth of this, and she sighed and agreed to try. When I left her and Nick, they were hand-in-hand on their sofa, talking quietly. While I do not think one conversation will solve their problems, I know that it is a good start.
Cameron and Courtney joined Harrington, Arthur, and Isabella for dinner before the Christmas Eve service. They have a tradition, stretching back to the days when Arthur was an excitable child, that one present would be opened before they left the house for church. The real gift, however, was when Harrington took up his canes for the first time in weeks and walked from the kitchen to the living room. Arthur and Cameron were at either side of him, and Isabella and Courtney watched anxiously, but it was worth all the worry when Harrington sank into his chair by the tree, winded and grinning. He still has a long way to go on his recovery, but he is relieved that recovery finally feels possible again.
I even took a moment to check in on Anna. She was busy and happy, chivvying the children in her church into their costumes for the Christmas pageant. A holiday full of family and singing was in her mind, and I was glad of it.
Several of Freya’s friends were passing through Boston on their way home to families, and she insisted on meeting them for drinks. Among the party was someone Freya didn’t know, a gangly man by the name of George who was getting a ride with Freya’s college roommate Danielle. Freya greeted him as warmly as if they were already friends, but she was surprised when he drew her aside at the bar.
“I have to warn you of something,” he said in a low voice.
She raised her brows at him.
“There’s a bet on about how you and I will react to each other,” he said, a small smile on his mouth. “I guess we’re both known to be very stubborn and reactionary, and so Danielle and Rob have placed bets on which one of us will lose our temper first.”
“Is that so?” Freya glanced at her oblivious friends, and a grin came to her face as her aura spiked high with mischief. “Shall we disappoint them?”
“My thoughts exactly,” George said and lifted his glass to Freya in a toast.
For the rest of the evening, the two were perfectly civil to one another, though the two conspirators brought up contentious subjects and provoked debate in increasingly desperate attempts to rile one or the other. They should have known better—Freya can be utterly contrary when she wants to be, and so, it seems, can George. I have to say, though, I am intrigued by the way the experience seems to have bonded the two. I will have to see if the connection lasts beyond the holiday.
Ted and Elaine will spend the next few days with his family. Today they were packing just before starting the long drive, but Ted paused a moment to look at Elaine with a warm smile. She caught his gaze and asked, “What?”
It was another moment before he answered. “I told you I met Cole for lunch the other day, right?”
She frowned. “Yes.” She hadn’t liked to hear it, but had been reassured by Ted’s manner.
“He said something to me, something he’s said before. Love is about taking risks. But I think he’s wrong.” He crossed the room and took Elaine’s hand. “I think you have to take risks to get love sometimes, but love itself…” He bent his head and rested it against hers. “Love is the ultimate safety. Someone who chooses you, and whom you choose. And I do, Elaine. I choose you.”
There were tears in her eyes, and she stood on her toes to kiss him. Then they held one another for a long time, long enough that they were late to get started on the drive. I do not think either of them minded.
Finally, I have received a gift myself, one that I did not at all expect. My friend Bayaer collected news from his fellow Scribes of my Shannon, who appears to be thriving. She is doing well at her new job, though I gather she had a bit of rough start. She has settled in, though, as she has also settled into her new town. She has made friends and is even dating a young man, a relationship Bayaer seems to think is fulfilling for both of them, though I wish I could see for myself to be sure. Still, this is more than I’d hoped for, and better than I feared. I am so grateful to Bayaer for doing me this kindness.
Happiness and hardship, bonds mending and bonds breaking—such is the way of things in the stolen garden, even at such a joyful time as this. I wish you all more of the good and less of the bad, and that such a trend should continue until the light in the world casts no more shadow. May that day come very soon.